Let's talk about fault
by raindropintheMirror
Summary: After Bosco's death, Lisbon tries to continue her normal life, but still his death hurts her much. Jane uses his 'normal' ways to look after her a little.


I wrote this story for Jane Sheppard, who always wanted me to write Mentalist fanfictions. I always wanted but I somehow never did. As she asked me to write something about 'The Mentalist', I promised her that I would, but it took long until I got close enough to the characters to start writing. I once had a little idea and told her proudly that I was writing something, but I never finished it. A few weeks back I got the idea to write this one, at first I did not even thought about really making a story out of the idea, because I always wanted to write it for her. So many stories I wrote in the past I wrote them for her and so it felt a little strange to know that she won't read. But anyhow I wrote it in the end, because I think, she still would have wanted me to. And so, this stories is for you, Jane Sheppard.

Cold raindrops mirrored the feelings Lisbon tried to hide so hard. Her hair was wet and her jacket was too thin for holding her warm, but it was oblivious that she did not mind.  
"Hey", Patrick said, just to say something. It was early, actually too early for work. Even for the two of them. Sleeplessness and the feeling that something was wrong brought him here so early – and as he saw now, he had been right.  
She glanced at him shortly but not respond. Her eyes were empty, she did not seemed to be really here. Patrick knew it was not tiredness what did this to her. "Couldn't sleep", she finally said, maybe it was even true, but it sounded like an excuse – they both knew where she had been in the middle of the night. He knew it every single time when she came to work with this expression in her face. It was this cold and maybe even desperate loneliness that made her look this horrible way.  
He turned away, whilst she just kept against leaning against her wooden desk. Her mind was far away and so she didn't pay any attention whilst he undid his locker to pull out one of the shirts he once bought for her.

"You'll get ill, if you run around in your wet clothes until they're dry", he said, not sure if she even listened.

Lisbon nodded and took the clothes, only mumbling a short "Thanks" before she left the room. Patrick shook his head, disappointed. She was not like that all the time, but even those few moments were far too often. He was possibly the only person who ever got the chance of seeing her like that, but maybe that was just because he knew where to find her when she felt like this.  
He tried to make her visit a psychologist to make her talk about it, but he knew very well how she thought about those people with their fancy i-know-better-than-you-talk. And the last one someone made her visit tried to get her arrested for murdering a man, he had killed. And – no matter how often he did not mind about this – she was still his boss and in things like this she did not listen to him.  
"Hey", she said blunt. She wore the clothes he had given her and her hair was a little bit dryer. "We should start to work… before the others turn up."  
"It's four o'clock in the morning, Teresa…. and it's Sunday. They won't come that bloody early."  
"Then…what are you doing here at four AM, Jane?"  
He smiled sadly – His sad smile was answer enough.  
"Stop that. I'm fine." She sat down behind Grace's desk and and pressed a few buttons on the front of the computer. "I am fine … Why does this bloody PC doesn't turn on?"  
"Because you … The power is still turned off."  
"Yeah, right. Of course."  
"See?" Patrick gasped. "I knew you're not all right. You don't sleep well lately, it's oblivious. Your mood is down and you've been 'there' again. You visit him every week. No, more that that. You do more than his widow does. You think we don't know, because you try to hide it. You try everything so you don't have to show." His voice was now louder than before.  
"Every time I lie awake in my bed, I can feel it on my fingers, on my skin. Like I never really washed it away."  
He came a few steps closer, with a worried expression on his face. He always wanted to make her talk, but now he was not sure if he had gone a step too far, if she still wasn't ready to share it with him.  
"I can feel his blood on my fingers. I try to wash it away, even though I know there's nothing. Not any more. But I can still feel it._"_  
"Lisbon", he said softly and took her hands in-between his.  
"Do you finally understand why I cannot sleep, why I cannot stop visiting him?"  
"Everyone understands that you're grieving. But, Lisbon, you did everything you could for him. When we found him, he was not breathing, his heart was not beating. You saved him-"  
"He's dead."  
"Yes, but you gave him a few hours more on this world."  
She closed her eyes. "This was not meant to happen." A tear felt down her cheek. "That was not meat not happen at all."  
Patrick sighed signed and pulled her into a hug. "It wasn't your fault."  
"Was this supposed to make me feel better?" She stumbled backwards. "This serial killer made this woman kill him, because it was his case, because he wanted that case to be yours. If Minelli had not gave that case to Sam's team, he and the other three would still be alive."  
"Maybe, but-"  
"There's not but!" She interrupted him rudely. "Minelli gave this case to Sam, because I was nearly killed during the investigations…"  
"No one could have known that this would've happened-"  
"Well, but it'is like that!" Another bunch of tears fell down her cheeks, taking her mascara with them to leave only black marks behind.  
"No! You want it to be your fault, because it makes it easier for you to understand his death. You're not the type of person who aims with ones anger on other people. Not after your past… so you aim it all against yourself."  
"Oh, yes! Because it's all so damn easy! Because you're always right." She was angry – maybe because his words had a glimpse of truth in them.  
"Do you think, Sam Bosco would want you to think like that?"  
"Oh, come on! Are you're really that cheap? Those are things we tell people during our investigations to help them. Do you think it helps me in any way? Stop talking that clever and locking down on us!" She turned away, searching for her jacket.  
"Where do you wanna to go?"  
"Why on earth should I tell you?"  
"Because I am worried about you. Lisbon", he grabbed hold of her arm. "Lisbon, stay here."  
"Get your fingers off my arm."  
He let her go. "I know you're missing him."  
"You don't know anything", she said slowly whilst sitting down again. "You don't know me!"  
"Yes, there's much I don't know, but I know what he told you in the hospital shortly before he died."  
She closed her eyes, trying to fight back the tears. "How can you know?"  
"The window between the corridor and his room wasn't very thick … and, well, I saw it in your expression. You-"  
"No, please! Don't dare to say it."  
"Okay", he said, while he sat down next to her and took her hand once more.  
She hesitated for a moment, until she leaned herself against his shoulder. He felt raindrops running down her wet hair on his clothes. She would get ill, if she did not dry her hair.

"Come on, Lisbon." He put an arm around her waist and pulled her back on her feet. "Let's go to bathroom."  
"You aren't allowed to go in, it's the women's bathroom, Jane", Lisbon said as they stood in front of the bathroom door. Maybe it was a weak try to make him leave her. She never liked it, when someone like him took too much care for her.  
"I can't see anyone who would mind", he said, while he closed the door behind them. He took a towel and made her sit down on a chair. Carefully he got the water out of her hairs.  
"I've been here. Exactly here, after he had been shot. You told me to go into the bathroom and to wash my hands. My hands and my shirt were full of his blood."  
"Ssh", he whispered, laying an arm around her. "Let it go."  
"I can't. I can feel it running down my fingers. I can see its reflection in the mirror."  
"Ssh … you know there's nothing."  
She nodded, but tears shimmered in her eyes. "If I had been there earlier… I wanted to go to him the whole morning. If I had been there before ..."  
"Lisbon, look into my eyes. Look at me!" He shook her until she looked at him. "If you had been there, you would be dead, too."  
"No, Red John wanted to kill them not me. Maybe that would never have happened then."  
"Okay, let's just pretend you had been there that morning, okay? Let's pretend you would have went to Bosco earlier to talk with him. So you would have been standing before his desk and talked to him and you would have stood with the back to the door, focussed on Bosco, in the middle of a discussion or whatever. This secretary would have come in with the weapon. She's the secretary, you would not have turned around to her, why should you? Maybe she would have come with some coffee or something to eat for Bosco's team. It would have not concerned you, so you would have just continue talking to Bosco. The secretary would have seen you, but would she have minded? And even if… she would not cared much about getting arrested by us. Possibility one would be that she just waited until you would have gone back to your own office, what actually would not have changed a thing. Well, maybe we would not have saved him shortly and gave him to chance to tell you something he always wanted to tell you. Possibility two, she would not have minded about you being there and just killed you too. And believe me, you would have not survived if she would have shot you, you would have been standing with your back to her. Maybe Bosco would have survived, because your death would have given him the chance to react and to shoot her. Do you think he could have lived happily ever after with your death happening just a half metre away from him?"  
She looked away, not responding.  
"And the third option would be, that she would not have shot you but just shot the others. Maybe you would have killed her… maybe you would have arrested her, but at least, I don't think that you could have helped Bosco much with that. His injuries-"  
"One of the reasons that he died was because he lost too much blood, if I had been there and she would not have killed me, then I could have called an ambulance ten minutes earlier than we did. I could have helped him so he never had would have never lost so much blood."  
"Yes, Lisbon, but we don't now. And you haven't been there. And I think Bosco was happy that you weren't."  
"He's dead! I don't think he's happy about anything right now."  
"Look at me!" He shook her softly, waited until she looked into his eyes again. Her expression was desperate, lost. "Sam Bosco would have prefered to die hundred deaths than seeing you die and being unable to do something."  
She did not reply anything on this. For a moment she just sat there again lost in her thoughts, in memories. He did not know, he would never get to know.  
"Do you remember that day we nearly caught Red John? I saved your life, even though we would fail of catching him once more. You said to me later that it would have been worth for you to die, if it meant that Red John got caught that day."  
"Sure. Why are you asking?"  
"You nearly made me cry that day. 'Cause you showed me how little you value your own life. And you showed me, how less you care for my worries about you. You don't care if you hurt anyone with what you say or do. I nearly gave up my and Sam's carrier for you, but you did not even care. You have not changed at all."  
"What does that have to do with what we're talking about at the moment?"  
"That's what I mean! You just try to get what you want! You're just searching for your revenge. You don't care about anyone else beside yourself."  
"That's not true and you know that."  
"But it's about how far we go to get what we want. You would die for getting Red John. You force me to live with that knowledge, even though you know, that it hurts me. Through everything you do you show me that I cannot change anything about it. But you … looks like it did not had been you who had to die for getting Red John."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You saw me crying, what not many people can say. You can see how painful all this is for me. But still you done care, still you would die for this. Why can't you finally see, that people around you get offended about the things you say and think?"  
He hesitated.  
"You think that you're so clever, but actually you don't know anything about us, about the people you're working with. You don't even know how much you hurt me right now." She continued, as he still did not speak. "See, you have no idea about me. You think you're helping me with being here when you know that I've been visiting his grave. I think you sometimes even do. But I always remember that if this whole thing with Red John turns out the way you want it to end, I will lose you, so or so. I have to visit your funeral or see you getting into prison for committing murder. You maybe did not even care as you told me that. Did you think I would not care, too?"  
"I had been angry! I had been so sure that we would get him his time."  
"Oh, come on, Jane. Don't lie to me. For you it would have been worth dying. And it's worth killing him for you."  
"You don't understand this."  
"I don't understand this? Red John let this woman kill Sam Bosco. I know you're angry about want he did to you. And I hate him, too. But I wouldn't kill him."  
"You don't know anything about how I feel! Sam Bosco was your friend, but not your wife nor your daughter. So don't tell me, you know how I feel!"  
She closed her eyes. She was tired to fighting, of arguing, and of getting headache because of his stubbornness. The passed month asked much for her. She knew he cared for them – somehow. In his own special way. A way they did not understand…. but he cared.  
They sat in silence for quite some time. The hard sound of raindrops colliding with the thin glass of the window was the only noise to be heard.  
"How much did he mean to you?" Patrick asked, finally taking part of the conversation.  
She looked at him briefly. "Definitely more than you do." Her voice sounded familiar again, like it always did when they talked to one another.  
"Really?" he asked, forcing a cheeky smile upon his lips.  
"You don't listen to my orders, you do things behind my back with my people and without my knowledge approval and you usually don't tell me about the things you find out in a case we're working on."  
He nodded. "Sure, that's a point." His smile grew a little. "And Sam Bosco did?"  
She took an empty sheet of paper, made a ball out of it and threw it at him.  
He smiled while he caught it.

"No, he did not", Lisbon said. "But he respected me."  
"And you think I don't?"  
"If you do, I would not have so many problems with you!" She said and now  
there was a little smile on her face too. "So, let's start working."  
"Working? It's too early to work." He rose and took her hand.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Come one, nearby there's a nice café … I think it's time to have breakfast?"  
She looked not really convinced. "Breakfast?"  
"Yeah, you know, eating something in the morning with a coffee and-"  
"I know what it means!" She interrupted him.  
"Then, come on."  
"With you?"  
"You look at me like I've asked you out on a date", He smiled a little. "Oh, you think I've asked you-"  
"No, I don't. I am just … well … I ..."  
"Yes?"  
She moved her shoulders a little, unsure of what to say.  
"I know the café has strawberries."  
"And?"  
Patrick took their jackets and handed her hers. "Come on, we'll be back, before anyone else will be here. And I promise you that I won't take any advantages."  
"As if I could trust you", Lisbon said, but now she was smiling, too. "Okay …"  
He took her hand again, as soon as she had put on her jacket.  
"No advantages, hm?" She shook her head a little, but the smile on her face did not disappear.  
"I meant that I won't tell anyone that we ate breakfast together …or that I will use my knowledge about what you like to eat to bribe you."  
"When you promise me that now, referred to the breakfast, does that mean, you normally would do?"  
His only answer was a big smile.


End file.
